


Stand By Me In A Field Of Blue

by TheDivineDemon



Category: Final Fantasy XV, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, F/M, No Bashing, Post-Final Fantasy XV, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-04-05 18:37:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19046113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDivineDemon/pseuds/TheDivineDemon
Summary: Harry Potter is remembering, dreams and vision of another life flooding his mind at the oddest times. Memories of a Prince turned King flashing before his eyes, so real they may as well be his own. And who was this blonde woman he kept dreaming of? Why did she feel so heart-achingly important?





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The stadium shook with the sound of cheers, victory cries of "Krum!" and "Ireland!" mingling together so well one would have thought the Bulgarian player had flown for the other team. Throughout the stands feet stomped the ground and fireworks, or spells very like fireworks, were being launched into the sky. Down in the field leprechauns danced among the spilling crowd, tossing fistfuls of gold to anyone who passed.

It was chaos and Harry Potter was loving every second of it. Bottle green eyes looking this way and that, head snapping around so quick his crooked glasses nearly fell from his face.

"Did you see how he dove for that Snitch?" His friend, Ron, crowed next to him, fiddling with his omnioculars to replay the scene, "It was beautiful it was."

"It was brilliant!"

On his other side their friend Hermione, bushy haired and buck toothed, rolled her eyes but was smiling just as wide as they were. Ron's dad had managed, through his connections at the Ministry, to get ten premium seats at the Quidditch World Cup. They sat in the highest box, right in front of not only the British Minister of Magic but the Bulgarian Minister as well. He couldn't have asked for better seats.

Well, the prat Malfoy and his father could have been in a different box but Harry felt the good company around him more than made up for that little blemish. His messy black hair, and Hermione's own unmanageable mane, may have made him stand out from the line of freckled redheads but he never once felt out of place. The Weasleys had always, always, treated him as one of their own and he'd always be grateful for that.

"Alright, you lot! Come along!" Mr. Weasley called over the din of the crowd, ushering them all to the stairs. "Let's get you back to the tents before the Irish really start celebrating."

"And so we can join them." Harry heard Charlie say to his oldest Weasley brother, sharing a good natured elbow as they passed each other. Harry, Ron, and Hermione trailed towards the end of the line of redheads with only Fred and George behind them. The two apparently had to settle the details on a bet before they caught up.

"But why did he catch the Snitch so soon?" Hermione asked as they descended the stairs, each enchanted step taking them down a story at a time. "Wouldn't it have been better to let his team's Chasers score a bit more?"

Ron shook his head, "The Ishish Keeper was too good, a bloody wall. They'd just be wasting time just trying to get passed him. And then there's Ireland's Chasers, well, you see how good they were doing.

"He had to end it on his terms so he could leave the stadium walking tall." Harry finished, finding an echoing familiarity with his words. As if he said, felt, a similar sentiment before. It was an easy sensation to shake off, especially when they had to wade through the craziness of the campground.

The Irish victory celebration was already in full swing, shamrocks and Irish songs floated through the air as they passed. So did cold mugs of beer, froth spilling as they sloshed on by.

Percy had to smack the twins' hands away more than once.

Causing nearly as much of a scene we're the Bulgarian Cheerleaders, who looked just as lovely with hunched shoulders and pointing lips, as they exited the stadium. More than a few men stopped and made a fool of themselves as they sulked on by, Hermione and Ron's sister made sure none in their group did the same. They grumbled as they pushed the Weasley men along, Harry laughing the whole way at Ron's slack jaw expression.

They all saw schoolmates on their way back, even Ginny waved to an owl eyed blonde from her year. Seamus, a fellow Gryffindor housemate from their year, had been the most memorable but he didn't even notice them. Too busy swinging his shirt about and singing off tune to care.

Finally, back at their tent Mr. Weasley gathered them around a wood stove, that he delightfully lit the Muggle way with a match, and told them it was "straight to bed after a cup of coco". Harry's disappointment was short lived as Bill, Ron's oldest brother, passed them all with a wink and a subtly bottle of butterbeer. The combination of warm chocolate and cool butterscotch-ish flavored alcohol twisted strangely on his tongue but it did wonders for his spirit.

Ron's too. And, as Harry knew, high spirits and a bit of alcohol took the redhead a long way. Maybe Bill knew this too, maybe he didn't, either way he was having a good laugh with everyone else as his youngest brother made a bit of a fool of himself.

Standing in his chair Ron reenacted the game, hands dipping and diving as he highlighted the match between the Seekers. Krums highlights in particular, "The way he flew, it was like was a bird. He's more than an athlete, he's an artist!"

"Are you in love Ron?" His asked, giggling from behind her cup of coco and sending the twins into a fit.

"Shut up Gin." He said, ears red, tossing his scarf in her face. But, as Harry learned early from the Weasleys, siblings wouldn't let it go with just that. They, starting with the twins, sang him a love ballad. So loud and bawdy they sang, dragging the rest of the room into their song but for an amused Mr. Weasley and a bemused Percy.

Maybe this was why they hadn't noticed the shift in tone outside their tent. How the firework like spells seemed to burst closer to the ground. How the merry songs stopped and squeals of delight turned increasingly shrill, increasingly frightened.

Mr. Weasley noticed the change first, straightens from where he stood and marched to the tent's flap with wand in hand. He was back not a moment later, face pale but eyes furious and worried.

"Grab your coats, all of you. Come now, hurry." He rambled, knuckles tight on his wand as he motioned for them to follow him.

"Dad, what's going on?" Bill asked, already standing with his wand at the ready. Charlie and Percy not far behind him.

"Death Eaters," he said, voice tight as his eyes tracked the younger children's progress, "or a lot play acting as then and doing a damn good job of it. I need you to take everyone to the woods and hide-" His words were cut off as his eldest sons argued with him, saying that 'they were of age', 'that they wanted to help' or that they 'worked for the Ministry now and had a duty to uphold'.

Harry paid little attention to this as he zipped up his jacket and followed Hermione to the tent flap. "What's a Death Eater?"

Hermione peaked out the flap, nerves clear in a way he hadn't seen her since Lupin and the Dementors. "They were followers of, of You-Know-Who in the last war." Harry's hand went to his scarf, a lightning shaped reminder of his parents' murderer hidden behind tufts of hair. "Dark Witches and Wizards, blood supremacist who did his bidding and supported his cause."

"Fanatics is what they are." Mr. Weasley said half pushing Ron towards them as his three eldest stood behind him with sleeves rolled up and faces determined, "Fred, George, I need you to take Ginny and the rest to woods. Stay hidden, stay safe. We're going to see what we can do to help the Ministry. Now go!"

With that, the four eldest Weasley men were off, wands high as they raced out into the chaos. Harry didn't remember much of the run to the forest, though a particularly bad taste settled in his mouth as he was coddled while others fought was a clear memory.

And just as clearly he remembered them.

He remembered how their hooded robes shadowed their skull masks, how their wands flashed cruel shades of green as they laughed at the chaos they caused. Hate hadn't set in until he saw the family, poor victims floating in the air listlessly but very much alive. He hadn't been completely sure on that until one Death Eater, one of the hooded monsters, pointed his wand at the smallest of the four.

Her scream would haunt him.

As would his inaction.

"Harry, come on." Hermione tugged at his arm, Ron not two paces ahead of them, shifting on his feet as his eyes wide as he took in the scene and the growing crowd of black cloaks.

Gulping down his anger and pride he followed after his friends, racing to the treeline and safety. But, just as his feet crossed the first row of trees, he lost them.

'That's not right,' He thought to himself, 'This isn't what happened.'

He half remembered running into Draco, a bully with his half veiled threats to Hermione. Then they ran into the lost foreign girl and the three Veela that Hermione had to drag both him and Ron away from. After that, most of all, he remembered the House Elf and how his stolen wand was used to cast the Dark Mark into the sky.

The image of a skull made of starlight looking over the field, snake of smoke slithering out its jaws like a grotesque tongue, stayed with him. Not because it scared him but the feelings it drew from others. The fear it caused was palpable and the response it earned immediate.

But none of that was happening. There was no Ron or Hermione, no Malfoy, no House Elf. There was no one.

Was he dreaming? Reliving the night before in a half impression? It didn't feel like it. It felt too real.

"Hello?" He called, still unsure, "Is anyone there? Hello?"

No one answered. He moved through the empty forest calling again and again to similar results. He heard nothing, not even the rustle of birds. As he trekked deeper the trees grew and thicked, reaching heights he wasn't sure he even saw trees so large in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts.

They seemed familiar, so familiar. He didn't know where but he had seen them before and they sent a twist in his gut.

The further he made his way into the woods the darker it became but something guided him when he thought himself lost. A light, soft and golden, glowing through the darkness. It was as warm and as inviting as the sudden gust of wind at his back was cold and demanding.

He walked towards it, shielding his eyes as the light stung at his eyes and took him into its embrace. The glare never went away but he got used it, eventually. With his eyes adjusting to the sudden light he felt them widen.

Harry was standing in a field of blue flowers. It spread as far as the eye could see, sunlight fresh from a new dawn pouring down onto the flowers he didn't recognize.

With three years of Herbology classes and a childhood filled with gardening under his belt Harry liked to think he had a head for flowers, able to tell most breeds with a quick look, but he couldn't place it. They looked a little like Lavenders but their color a vivid blue and petaled heavily where blossom met the stem.

He bent down and brushed his fingers against the petals, noticing the black fingerless glove for the first time. He noticed his whole outfit for the first time, an all black selection that would have looked casual if not the fancy skull themed buttons and embroidering.

Harry had never once in his life worn something so strange and yet they felt right. Well worn and broken in, comfortable.

Someone called out a name that wasn't his. He shot up instantly as if it was. A name coming from his lips that he couldn't hear as he stood, the word struggling to escape a suddenly dry throat as he took sight of her.

She was beautiful.

Blonde with clear blue eyes and pale skin that seemed to glow in contrast to her lily white dress. She said his not-name again, one hand covering her lips while the other clutched itself over her heart.

He ran to her. She met him halfway, petals spraying in their wake as the reached out for each other. Their fingers just grazed each other before something pulled them away, keeping them away from each other.

"Soon, Dear Chosen. Soon." A voice whispered over a suddenly icy gust of wind, "Born on a new star your rewards will soon be received. You are so close. The connection made as eyes met, yet words had gone unspoken. Soon."

Harry ignored the voice, clawing at the air that kept him away. He couldn't, wouldn't, be separated from her again. Not after all that had happened, all that he had done and sacrificed, all that had stood in their way.

The last thing he saw before darkness dragged him away was on her, reaching out her hand to him in. Mouthing a word he knew intimately but couldn't hear.

He screamed until he woke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a rehash in the beginning, though more from my memory then spot by spot from book/movies, but I needed a spot to start and I think it helps the story's tone.
> 
> Anyway, the plot is pretty simple. Harry is Noctis from Final Fantasy 15 reborn, a gift and reward not for him but for Lunafreya his betrothed in the game. The Goddess from the game, not only being close to Lunafreya but a believer in love, decided to give them a second chance at love. Taking their souls from post game and planting them in a new land.
> 
> The memories of the past life will be slow until the condition is met for a full memory revival but I have a few idea/plots for how that changes canon near immediately and should make for an interesting/non-rehash 4th year. And it's not just the memories or even powers that would be a part of the crossover, I have ideas! Ideas I hope to show.
> 
> Though, I'll be honest, I'm debating keeping who Lunafreya reincarnated as a secret until the full memory revival while giving false hints on who it is. Hell, I hinted the two major possibilities already in this chapter but I'm not sure how I'll play it. I'll probably just roll with whatever I'm writing.
> 
> Fair warning, I'm going to be using a combo of the books and movies to fit my needs so don't feel too put off if you see a description of a character that doesn't match the scene.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Please tell me what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The sound of his own rapidly heartbeat rung in Harry's ears, not even Ron snoring in the bed next to him could drown out the beat. His breathing was ragged, his lungs unable to keep the pace that his heart had set.

"What was that," He had to wonder out loud, getting a snort from his snoring roommate. It was odd, for such a loud sleeper Ron was easily disturbed.

Not that it mattered, not when his mind was in such a buzz. He paid bare courtesy to the other boy as he stood and took off his sweat soaked nightshirt, the dream hadn't been that bad. Had it?

No, just intense. Too real.

And that sensation, that realism, it wasn't fading. What he felt and saw was lasting. It couldn't have been a dream. No, it had been as real as any memory he's ever had or whatever it was his scar had made him see just days ago.

He rubbed at the blemish absently though it didn't ache or hurt, he could still remember the splitting pain the scar gave him as he saw Voldemort and Wormtail kill that poor Muggle man. It burned and he hadn't been able to think for the rest of the day without a raging headache. This dream didn't leave him in pain but it did leave him aching, as if he had been missing something his whole life and just realized that he was incomplete.

That some part of him was hollow but he couldn't remember which part.

He shook his head, hoping to shake the feeling and failing, and finished getting ready. Faced washed, teeth brushed, hair failing to be tamed, and clothes changed Harry was ready for the day.

It was a relief to leave the room, he needed to think and all that noise Ron was making wasn't making it easy. He really did need to learn whatever charm was in the door, it'd be a lifesaver at Hogwarts.

The stairs of the Burrow, the towering home of the Weasley family, were always a bit of a challenge. The tower of a home was more of a stack of houses than one building and the stairs definitely reflected that. They didn't match, the different lengths and different depths of mismatching stairs from what seemed like random buildings made it near impossible for him not to trip.

He felt more than a bit lucky that he only stumbled twice on his way down, he usually stubbed his toe when he did. He was also a bit surprised when he got to the foot of the stairs when he heard the sounds of voices and a bustling kitchen.

It wasn't even dawn yet and already half the Weasley family was up, apparently sleeping in was a habit they grew out of.

Bill was the first one to see him, "Morning Harry." He greeted with a smile, long hair still wet from an early morning shower and likely driving his mother mad.

Charlie, sitting next to his brother with his freckled cheeks stretched from food, raised his glass in greeting. Percy, on the other hand, paid Harry no mind, his nose so deep in some parchment that his glasses were starting to slide down his nose.

Mr. Weasley sat at his usual place at the head of the table, his hair just a bit disheveled and his eyes forming bags. His clothes, which always looked a bit worn, were rumpled and if Harry recalled right was the set he wore the day before. Still, despite his obvious exhaustion, the man put on a winning smile as he greeted Harry, "Morning Harry, sleep well?"

"Better than you, I think, sir." Harry said even as Mrs. Weasley forced him into a seat at the table, a plate of sausage and eggs soon floating itself down in front of him, "Is she okay?"

"She's fine, really," Mr. Weasley assured, "Molly's just a bit frazzled over the other night, we all are I think." He gave Harry a rather pointed stare.

All Harry could respond with was a shrug, taking a mouthful of eggs so wouldn't need to say anything. But Mr. Weasley was a father of seven, "A bit early for you isn't, Harry?" He asked, concern plain in his eyes.

He shrugged again, "Just couldn't sleep, Ron's snoring didn't help much." He half-lied before trying to turn the question around, "How about you guys? You're up early too."

Charlie snorted, "We work for a living, Harry. This was sleeping in for me." Charlie started to go in his time in Romania and the Dragon Sanctuary there. He loved talking about his work there and Harry would usually love to listen but, much like his two other brothers, he kept alluding to something at Hogwarts. All of them would share looks and give out little hints about an exciting year to come, especially Percy who kept talking about all the work the Ministry was putting in for whatever it was.

"You know, everyone else is asleep. You could tell."

Bill actually laughed at him, "Like you could keep a secret from Ron or Hermione too long. You three are attached at the hip you are." Harry was about to protest when Bill raised his cup towards the stairs, "Speak of the devil."

Coming down the stairs was Hermione, dressed in her muggle clothes and giving a buck toothed smile to all. Her morning greeting stopped in her throat as she caught sight of Harry. She blinked once, then twice, and then she sat next to him, "Harry, what are you doing up so early? Are you feeling well? Did you have a bad dream?"

She put more emphasis on the word 'dream' then Harry would have liked. After the incident at the World Cup Harry had told her and Ron about the dream he had about Voldemort, how it burned at his scar. Both of them got on him, demanding why he didn't tell them earlier and how he needed to go to the Headmaster about it all. They only backed down when he told them he had written to Sirius about the dream.

Ron seemed to think it was a brilliant idea, something about Sirius coming from a Dark family and should know everything about cursed scars. Hermione was just glad he told an adult.

Though, he wasn't sure how they'd take him having another weird dream. Have him go to Dumbledore sooner? Think he was a loon? They almost did in second year when he had heard whispers in the wall.

"I'm fine." He said, feeling a bit put upon that he needed to repeat himself. "Just didn't feel like sleeping."

"Okay," She said, after a moment of scrutinization, "But why are in your uniform already? We usually change on the train."

"I just wanted something that fit." He said and that was a complete truth, almost everything he owned was a hand-me-down from his cousin Dudley who could generously be called a baby whale. The clothes he wore at age ten still fit Harry at age fourteen and they were still baggy. He just wanted something that he didn't need to roll up to fit.

So, he wore his Hogwarts uniform, minus the robe. The blacks slacks and white button down fitting him perfectly, as did the grey vest with red and gold lion emblem to match his tie. It fit him, it was comfortable, so of course, he wore it.

"I hear that," Charlie said, sending a mock glare at his older brother.

"What?"

"I had to wear your skinny shirts for years." Charlie complained, "You got the fresh stuff and I had to stretch it out just to fit it."

"And then gave it to me where it sagged at the shoulders, always." Percy said, speaking for the first time as he rolled up his parchment, "Morning Harry, Hermione."

"Morning Percy,"

Hermione, thankfully, started to talk to Percy about what he was reading leading to a conversation that was honestly boring Harry to tears. Something about all the Howlers the Ministry was getting and how some fires started from the unopened ones, they apparently explode if the messages weren't yelling in poor employees face.

Off in the family den, the fireplace suddenly lit itself with a roar as green flames licked out against the iron gate as a voice echoed a greeting, "Hello!? Hello!? Is anyone there!? Hello!?"

"I'll get that." Mrs. Weasley, hand stopping Mr. Weasley from standing as she passed, "You lot just keep on eating."

"Thanks love," The tired man said, his hand lingering on hers as she walked away. He let out a relieved sigh as he went back to his breakfast, barely touched, and jumped as his wife yelled out his name.

"Arthur! Arthur! Emergency at the Ministry!"

He was up and out of his seat before she finished her last word, nearly knocking over the last of his children as they were finally making their way down the stairs. Mrs. Weasley scampering passed him as she returned to the kitchen, digging into the various drawers in an apparent hunt for a quill.

"What's that about?" Ron asked

"Can't you hear Ronniekins?" Fred asked while George finished, "She said there was an emergency at the Ministry."

Leaning back in his seat to look in the den a bit better he saw Mr. Diggory, or at least his head, talking to Mr. Weasley. He looked like a large bearded egg as his chin rested on a log in the fireplace. "-is going crazy over nothing, Probably just some muggle's cat sneaking on his property again but he's making a fuss. We need to get him on a minor charge, if someone from the Improper Use of Magic gets their claws on him, well, you know his record. He'd have it."

"Where is he?" Mr. Weasley asked, jotting down the address as soon as his wife gave him a quill and parchment. "And he didn't actually attack anyone, did he?"

"Arthur, it's Mad Eye. He sprung out of bed jinxing anything that moved, But no one is injured so they'll have a devil of a time proving anything." Mr. Diggory said, "Arthur we've got to get ahead of this before the press. Especially that Skeeter woman."

Mr. Weasley gave a nod, shoving the note down in his pocket, and sprung up, "Alright, I'm off."

"Be careful," She called after him as she said a few words to the head in the fire, shoving a piece of toast in his mouth as they exchanged goodbyes. Meanwhile, Mr. Weasley was fastening on his cloak and saying his goodbyes to his family, he even ruffled Harry's hair as he passed.

"Molly? Are you going to be alright getting everyone to King Cross Station?"

"Of course I will," She said, waving him off towards the door, "You just take care of old Mad Eye." They shared a kiss and then Mr. Weasley disappeared in a swirl.

"Did you just say Mad Eye? As in Mad Eye Moody?" Ron asked, a bit of wonder in his voice.

"Isn't he that nutter?" George started to ask but paused at his mother's stern glare.

"Your father respects Mad Eye Moody, he thinks very highly of his work and you should too." AS she walked away Fred started to mutter something about spark plugs which got him his very own glare.

"Moody was a great wizard in his time," Bill said, voice just as firm as his mothers.

"He's an old friend of Dumbledore's too, you know?" Charlie chimed in.

"Well, Dumbledore isn't exactly normal either, is he?" Fred started, "I mean, sure he's a genius and all but…"

"Who is Mad Eye Moody anyway."

"He was an Auror for the Ministry, one of the best," Charlie started, pausing only for a second at Harry's blank expression, "It means he was a Dark Wizard Catcher, they say half the prisoners in Azkaban are there because of him… Though, rumors have it that he's a bit paranoid nowadays. Sees Dark Wizards around every corner and considering the enemies he must have made over the years, the families of all the people he caught mostly, I can't say that blame him."

Bill and Charlie decided to come with them, Percy decided to head into work early. "The Ministry is still busy for the… Incident. I should go in and see if Mr. Crouch has any need of me."

"And someday Percy, with all this brown nosing he'll eventually remember your name," George said seriously, receiving only a sniff as Percy swirled away in his own bout of appraration.

Apparently, again because of the mess at the World Cup, Mr. Weasley couldn't borrow any of the Ministry cars as they usually did for his large family. So, with a flick of her wand in the air and some patience, she called the Knight Bus.

It was a horrifically purple triple decker bus that slide from the air with a stretch and a pop. The doors slammed open and a thin pimple faced man leaned his head, "Well this is a big group ain't it. All for Kings Cross?" The man asked, Harry just barely remembering his name being Stan.

"Yes, we are, enough seats for nine please."

"Might be a bit of a squeeze but we should be able to fit you all, most are heading that way anyway." Mrs. Weasley fanded over a handful of Galleons to get her family on and they were all quickly loaded on, Stan professionally placing the luggage setting the luggage away with a little help from Bill.

The inside of the Knight Bus didn't look much like how Harry remembered it. The last time he was on it, just before the start of his third year, the bus had been lined with brass framed beds with candles burning within the curtained room. But now there were just lines of chairs, some high backed but most were simple house chairs along with a few rocking chairs here and there, and all were noticeably loose from the ground.

True to Stan's word most on the train were Hogwarts students, Harry even recognized a few enough to wave. Though, none of them seemed ready to relinquish the death grip they had on their own chairs.

"Alright," Stan said, tying down the owl and cat cages with one last tug, "Let's be off then!"

And without another word, except a maniacal laugh from somewhere in the front, the bus sped away from the Burrow.

What followed next had to be the third worse car ride in Harry's life, maybe second. The less said about the trip the better but Harry had never gotten out of a vehicle so fast in his life. From the way everyone else was running off with their trunks Harry was sure they all agreed that no one liked playing bumper cars with chairs.

"Thank you for choosing the Knight Bus! Please come again!" Stan called from behind them, the bus disappearing with all the fanfare of a popped balloon.

"I can't wait to get my apparition license," George mumbled, dragging his trunk along with a hurried grunt, and got a hardy agreement from near everyone in earshot.

Getting to Platform 9 ¾ was actually relatively easy, one just needed to know where to walk. To step through the illusion of a fake wall between platforms 9 and 10. The real trick was doing it without the muggles noticing, some from their bus group did unconcerned. Simply rushing forward without a care or second glance, as if they were in a rush to get to their train which was true in a sense. But the number of rushing students caught the eye of more than one curious muggle.

Harry's group decided to have a bit more tack in their approach, leaning against the fake wall in pairs and sets. Talking casually as the eased their way onto the magical platform.

The Hogwarts Express materialized in front of them, it was a large and gleaming red steam engine that was already letting out a steady stream of white clouds. Through the steam, Hatry could just make out the dark shapes of students waving to their parents as they boarded the train, the sound of their pets hissing and hooting near deafening. Ron's new owl, Pigwidgeon, was making a scene of itself as it bounced around its cage, trying to respond to every call by itself.

"Shut up Pig," Ron muttered, as they waited for the rest of his family to make their way through. Bill and Charlie shared secret smiles as they hugged their sister and clapped their brothers on the shoulders.

"Don't look so sad, you all might be seeing me sooner than you think," Charlie said, grinning so wide his freckles ate away at the last of his pale skin.

"Why?" One of the twins askes, eyes squinting.

"You'll see," he said, finger to his nose.

Bill sighed wistfully, hands shoved in his pockets, "I wished they did this back when I was in school."

"But why? What's going on?"

"Oh, you'll find out." Bill said, smile returning, "I might even take time off from work to come and see a bit of it."

"But see what?" Ron demanded, the warning whistle stopping Bill from giving a teasing answer.

"You lot best get on before the train leaves without you," Mrs. Weasley said as she tried to shoo them away. "Be sure to write on Christmas!"

"Why would we need to write?" Ron asked confused, eyes narrowing, "We come home every year. What's going on?"

"Oh, I'm sure Dumbledore will explain when you arrive." She said, dismissive and eyes a bit tear filled as she waved them away. "Now behave this semester, won't you? Won't you FRED? Won't you GEORGE?"

"Mum, what's going on?"

"Find some seats before the train leaves!" Was all she said, still waving as the whistle blew again. Frustrated Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley's boarded the train, their group breaking up as the migrated to their years and friends.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione started searching for an empty compartment, Ron grumbling the whole way. "What's the point of teasing us like that? It's just cruel is what it is." He said, peeking into another compartment and tsking as he saw it occupied.

"It is strange," Hermione admitted, "Maybe there's a new class at Hogwarts?"

Ron snorted, "Only you would think school work would be that exciting, Hermione."

"Well, it could be!" She said, indigent and a bit defensive, "It is a school after all."

"I bet it's something to do with the Quidditch season," Ron said, a bit gleeful at the idea, "Maybe we're going to have pros visit or something."

"I highly doubt that Ron."

"What, the seasons over. They have a bit of time before they have to go back and train. Though the British and Scottish should get started sooner rather than later. What do you think Harry?" Ron asked, peeking over his shoulder at his silent friend only to pause. "Are you okay there mate?"

He wasn't, it was just so damn cold. He was shivering where he stood. His teeth clacking even as he started rubbing at his arms. "Just cold," He said, surprised he wasn't seeing his own breath, "Aren't you?"

Both shook their heads, "A bit warm actually."

Hermione put her hand on his forehead, "You don't feel warm, I don't think you have a fever." She said, half guessing as she turned to Ron, "Do you think someone jinxed him?"

"Probably that prat Malfoy. Let's find a cabin and try to dispel him."

The two started to frogmarch him down the train passage, and Harry would be embarrassed to admit that he needed the help. The cold was getting worse, it felt like frost was trying to form across his face and his legs were starting to get weak.

Shivering, he looked ahead and saw a face smirking at him from down the hall. The man was strange, tall and overly dressed and hair an unnatural violet. He wore a bright red scarf over a long trench coat, a hooded grey white mantle resting over his shoulders. There was a black fedora in his hands that he gestured with grandly as he bowed at Harry.

Who was he? And why did the sight of him made him clench his shivering teeth?

"Who's that?" He asked his friends, hoping they recognized him. Was he the new Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher? If he was Harry already hated him.

There was just something slimy about him that got under Harry's skin.

"Who's who now?" Ron asked, trying to track Harry's gaze and completely missing the smiling man even as he walked towards them.

"Him, right there," Harry said, trying to point and failing. "The creep in the hat."

"Harry…" Hermione said cautiously, "No one's wearing a hat."

"Him," Harry said, not quite a yell but loud enough to get a few glances, "That guy, the only adult in the hall."

"Harry, there's no one but students here."

The man's smile seemed to mock him, even as he faded from sight. Harry swore he hear him laughed as he blinked away. "Where'd he go?" He asked, voice getting a bit weak from the cold.

"Is he going mental?" Ron asked and getting a short glare.

Hermione had her wand out and cast a spell on him. She frowned and cast it again, enunciating the words more just to be sure it was casts right. "That should have dispelled it but he's still shivering." She cast another spell and it did as much as the first, "I put a warming charm on him, let's hope that helps until we can get him sitting."

They kept on marching him down the train, the strange man always seemed to be in the corner of Harry's vision every time they entered a new car. His head snapping to him every time, the mocking laughter always there.

The found an empty compartment about halfway down the train, where they all but threw him onto the bench. Ron secured Harry and Hermione's trunks before he started to dig through his own. He came out with two robes, one his plain black one that he passed to Hermione and the other the ugly mauve one with frills.

He glared at the garment for a moment before scoffing at it and using it to cover his owl's cage, muffling the sound somewhat when he did. "At least that ugly thing has some use. Why did mom even buy this thing?" He grumbled before turning to Hermione, "How is he?"

"Still shivering." She said, "He was fine on the Platform, right?"

Ron nodded, "Seemed fine around then," He agreed, "Was getting just annoyed as we were over all that vague rubbish."

"Maybe we should get a Prefect?"

"And what are they going to do about it?"

"They are older than us Ron, they probably know a better way to help with," Hermione waved her hand at Harry, "Whatever is going on."

"'M fine," Harry protested, "Just need to rest for a bit."

"Harry, your obviously not fine." Hermione grossed, "Something is wrong with you."

"Just need to sleep it off." He said, eyes heavy but just catching the sight of the man passing their cabin, "Or just to take it easy for a bit."

Ron and Hermione shared a look over his head, a silent debate. A debate that ended with Hermione letting out a heavy sigh, "Fine, but you're heading to Madame Pomfrey as soon as we get to the castle. Do you understand me?"

Harry just nodded, head resting against the seat, relieved that he wasn't about to become a spectacle before the year starts. Again.

He was starting to wonder if his First Year was going to be the only time he had a normal trip to Hogwarts.


	3. Chapter 3

Stand By Me In A Field Of Blue Chapter 3

Harry sat shivering the entire train ride with his borrowed robe held tight. His friends hovered over him the entire time, doing all they could think of to keep him warm. Cycling through their entire list of heating spell and pouring cocoa down his throat. Yet the chill persisted. It clung to him, clutching to his rattling bones and clacking teeth.

The longer he shivered the more his friends worried. They wouldn't let him leave their sight, or, more accurately, Ron's sight. The redhead kept an eye on him for every second that Hermione couldn't. When Hermione left to change into her uniform, he stayed with him. When he needed to use the toilet after the fifth cup of cocoa, he followed him there. 

Apparently, he thought Harry was "As bad as Gin was when she had the Dragon Poxs." At that point, they had already gone deaf to his arguments and reassurances. He was going to the Hospital Wing, there were no if's, and's, or buts about it or allowed. 

Though resigned Harry consoled his wounded pride with the knowledge he was no longer seeing things. The strange man vanishing about halfway through the miserable trip. Despite his right coloring and solid appearance the man obviously wasn't real. he learned this on one of his trips to the loo when Ron walked straight through the man. Whatever the man was he was less than a ghost and more like a magical photo or a skipping muggle film. Silently acting out scenes as he played off of some unseen costar.

When the purple haired man flourished a gun Harry hadn't felt fear or even apprehension, he only felt hate. Not a low simmering hatred as he felt for Snape or even Malfoy, but a bursting hate that screamed for him to stab out. 

"Uh, you okay there mate?" Ron had asked on their way back to their cabin, the purple haired spectator running in fright from them. But it wasn't him, Harry didn't think so at least. The way he ran, the confused fear in his eye, did not fit the smarmy man who had haunted Harry most of the train ride.

Uncertainty, and a bubbling guilt that snuck up on him, won out against the hate. "I'm fine," That was a lie but he could honestly say he had never been happier to see the Hogwarts' station. He needed to get off that train.

His feet had barely touched the station proper when Hermione grabbed him by the hand. "Come on, Harry." She said, dragging him along in the rain as if he were a child. Ron was just ahead of them, clearing a quick path to the horseless carriages.

Harry stopped short, stumbling Hermione from his sudden dead weight.

"Harry," she asked, her worry doubling, "What's wrong?"

"The carriages…"

She looked over her shoulder, back to where Ron was waiting inside the door, "What about them?" She asked, looking back at him.

They weren't horseless for one. They had always been horseless before or so he had been told by his classmates and seniors. He had only ridden the carriages once during the year before. Thanks to a certain House Elf Harry wasn't able to ride them in his Second Year. Still, everyone said the same thing. That they pulled themselves like some fancy magical automobile.

But there were horses, or something like them, hitched to the front of each carriage. They were black and skeletal things with a beak like muzzles and a lizards tail. Long bat like wings that stretched from their sides and flexed with every breath.

One stomped its feet and looked of him, causing not a splash.

"Its nothing, nevermind." He didn't need them thinking he was seeing things that weren't there, well, more things. Hermione was already worrying enough over the strange man only Harry could see, he didn't need to put more on her. One hallucination was bad enough, a whole line of them would be a whole other level of problems. 

The following ride was tense for Harry, to say the least. He kept looking through the rain splattered windows, towards the huffing creatures. Each stomp of their hooves a loud crack to his ears and the smooth glide of the wheels seemed to shake to his senses. He didn’t know why, there wasn’t so much as a rattle in the carriage, but he thought there was and that’s what mattered.

It mattered because he was starting to think he was going crazy.

Why else would he be seeing things like, like, whatever that was? Or that man? Or even that dream?

No, no, he wasn’t crazy, or so he told himself. There have been times before in his life where he thought he was crazy. Like when he heard voices in the walls in his Second Year. Or when he tried to explain all the strange things and people he saw as a kid before that. But, eventually, he found a way to explain each event. It was all magic he didn’t know about yet.

He had to believe that was what was going on, just more things he had yet to understand. And until he did he would have to keep rolling with whatever life tossed at him.

Harry sat a little straighter and tore his eyes away from the strange horses. Instead, he looked past them, taking in a sight that always took his breath away. 

Hogwarts.

The Scottish castle sprawled along the cliff edge as it peered down at the great lake below it. It’s great towers reaching high into the rainy sky and seemed to scrape against the low hanging clouds. And, best of all, every window was lit with a warm yellow light that was calling out to him, calling him home.

The smile on his face couldn’t be any more genuine, more so when he realized that he had stopped shivering.

This news was met with a rather lackluster response from his friends, or so Harry felt. They had hummed and raised their eyebrows, a little too synced in their disbelief he thought. He really was feeling better. Still, they frog marched straight into the exasperated care of Madam Pomfrey.

"Not five minutes in the castle and your already here, Potter?" She huffed, greeting them as they reached the Hospital Wing, "What seems to be the problem this time?"

"Um, nothing now," He hedged, squirming under her critical eye, "I just didn't feel too well on the train. It was probably just motion sickness."

"No, it wasn't." Hermione snapped, "Madam Pomfrey, he was shivering the whole trip. Warming spells didn't seem to work and we don't believe it was a curse, or it wasn't one we were able to dispel. It... It reminded me of last year and the Dementors."

The Healer hummed, waving her wand over Harry even as she forced him to sit on the edge of a bed. "Well, I'm sure it wasn't that. Buggers' effects are immediate but don't last too after exposure."

She waved her wand a bit more, weaving it in patterns he couldn't even being to interpret. At the end of it all she did was hum, "And you feel fine now, Potter? Not so much as a shake? Were there any other symptoms?"

Harry shifted where he sat, "I was a little confused for a while." It was a half truth, yes, but he really didn't want to talk about the purple haired man or the black horses.

"Sounds like you had a bit of a fever," Madam Pomfrey said, "It's not too odd for them to only last for a handful of hours. It was likely a short lived bug but it would be best if you had some bed rest. And water, plenty of water."

"Wait, he'd have to miss the feast?" Ron asked, "But, we just got here!"

"As I said, it would be for the best." Madam Pomfrey repeated, though her eyes did soften as she turned back to Harry. "Though, I don't see a reason why you have to spend your first night in the hospital Wing. I'll have the kitchen send you something up to eat in that Tower of yours."

Harry gave her a smile, "Thank you." He hadn't seen most of his Housemates since the end of Third Year, he was looking forward to seeing them all again. 

"No problem at all, Potter." Then she smiled, "And don't worry about missing any announcements at the feast. I'm sure your fellow Gryffindors will let you know what you missed."

"Not you too," Ron moaned, earning a not so subtle elbow from Hermione. "What! Everyone keeps on hinting at something big and it's driving me mad."

Though Hermione admonished him to be more polite Madam Pomfrey just seemed amused. "You'll find out soon enough, now off with you. I'll send a messenger to the Fat Lady to let you in."

 

-0-0-0-0-0-

It was nice to be back in the Gryffindor Tower, Harry thought. The familiar red and gold of the room comforted him, more than the warm fire crackling in the den. He needed that more then he realized. It centered him, to be home. It gave him a chance to set his head back on straight after whatever it was that happened on the train.

He hoped it was like Madam Pomfrey said, a fever that burned its course. But, somehow, he knew it wasn't.

"Check," Ron said. His mouth half stuffed with another bite as his knight slashed at Harry's Rook, leaving only a pile of stones behind. Not ten minutes into the game and he had already backed Harry into a corner as they waited for everyone.

"Swallow Ronald," Hermione said absently, turning the page of her course book as she lounged not too far from them. Unlike the boys, she had yet to touch her food, her nose so deep in her book she hardly paid it any mind. Harry hoped he wasn't the cause, the bushy hair girl tended to get frazzled when she started to worry.

Still, it was nice, just hanging out near the open fire. It seemed so small but he wasn't sure if his friends really understood how much moments like those meant to him. The pleasant normalcy of it. IT was something he had never been sure he could or would experience when he was growing up. He wouldn't trade a moment of it for anything else in the world.

The portrait door to the dorm swung open, the rest of Gryffindor had arrived and they were absolutely a buzz. Each face Harry saw wore a bright smile as they chattered excitedly to each other. Most everyone ignored them as they passed, too busy with their own conversations to care. But some did notice, and they did care.

"There you three are!" A redhead exclaimed, striding towards them shoulder to shoulder with his twin. A few familiar faces trailed behind them, barely exchanging waves as the twins set on them. "We thought we lost you at the station again."

Ron's ears turned red, "That only happened once."

"But it certainly left an impression." One twin started for the other twin to finish, "On the Whomping Willow." 

"Shut up," He mumbled back and received only grins in return from his brothers. "What's going on?"

“You first, where were you.”

“I wasn’t feeling all that well,” Harry said, preferring to say it himself then his friends talk around it. “Now, what’s going on?”

One twin hummed, Harry was fairly sure it was George but he couldn't be completely sure. "Bit of a good news-bad news situation that."

"What's the bad news," Harry asked, feeling a bit of dread, wanting the worst out of the way.

The twins were cut off by a dark skinned girl spoke, "Quidditch is canceled this year." Angelina said, arms crossed and lips pouting.

Harry actually stood up at that while Ron let out a horrified, "No!"

"Yes!" The twins shot back even Angelina nodded her head grudgingly. Harry couldn't believe it. He loved Quidditch, it was usually the highlight of his school year. And after watching the world cup he had been looking forward to pushing himself further in the new season. 

Harry also knew that with Oliver Wood graduated and gone Angelina was set to take over as Team Captain. He could only imagine how disappointed she felt.

“Can we still practice?” He asked, feeling a bit desperate, “Run drills or something?” He’d even take flying around like a First Year at that point.

“I’m not sure,” Angelina said slowly, stretching out the words as her pout started to melt away. “I’ll ask McGonagall about it.”

Harry smiled, relief flooding him even as the twins did a double take. “You have to tell us what happens.” Fred, probably, said in all seriousness. Quidditch was just as serious to them as it was to Harry and the rest of their team. 

“What’s the good news?” Hermione asked, finger between the pages of her book as she looked on.

“Huh, oh. Oh!” George said, straightening out and eyes sparkling with excitement. “Hogwarts is hosting the TriWizard Tournament, can you believe it!?”

Even as a slow and disbelieving smile broke out on Ron’s face, matched only by the pensive frown on Hermione’s, Harry was left confused.

“The what now?”

An:  
Trying something new with Apps, hopefully it helps my writing. Anyway, thanks again to @kaleidoscope89 and I hope everyone enjoyed.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"The TriWizard Tournament is a competition between the top three schools in Europe dating back to 1292, " Hermione explained the next morning, slamming her copy of 'Hogwarts: A History' in front of Harry as she sat. Harry narrowly picking up his goblet of pumpkin juice in time as she cleared space at the table, "I've marked the relevant pages for you last night." 

"Thanks, Hermione." He said, a bit exasperated. Yes, he wanted to know more about the tournament everyone seemed to be so excited for, but it could wait until he was awake for more than an hour. He let out another yawn, why did class have to start so early in the morning?

"You're welcome," She said, flipping to the appropriate pages. "Now, the traditional three schools that compete are Hogwarts, obviously, Durmstrang of Bulgaria, and Beauxbatons of France. Each school rotates who hosts the Tournament but there are always three events. Each designed to test the Champions in some way. Bravery, ingenuity, and so on."

Ron rolled his eyes, "I could have told you that." He said through a mouthful of eggs. 

Hermione gave him a look, "Then you should have. Do you also know all the events that were hosted at Hogwarts, ever, or why the Tournament ended in 1792?"

"Well, no."

"Then it's a good thing I brought the book, isn't it." She said matter-of-factly, no question in her voice as she met his eyes.

"I'm just saying it doesn't matter, does it?" Ron said back, shoving in another forkful, "We can't join. Seventeen and up is what everyone's saying. Dumbledore's going to make sure of it."

"Well," Hermione said, deflating a little as she conceded, "It doesn't hurt to know what's going to happen."

"I guess," Ron said after a swallow, "Still, wouldn't it have been grand if we could have joined? I mean, name one other person in the school that has done as much as us. Last year we faced dementors, the year before that it was the prat and spiders, and I don't think anything they have could compare to the traps from First Year. We could have totally won if we entered, right Harry?"

"Huh," Harry asked, yawning again and rubbing at his eyes, "What was that? Kind of spacing out there for a minute."

Ron rolled his eyes, "Wake up already mate. Summers over and we can't go back to sleep until Binns's class."

"Ron!"

"What? It's the truth."

As the two bickered Harry sipped at his drink and looked around the Great Hall. The ceiling was a perfect copy of the early morning sky, unlit candles wandered the air with the few ghosts who could be bothered with the early hour. Most of the House Tables were filled but the staff table some noticeably empty seats. Hagrid wasn't there yet, probably out feeding one critter or another, but McGonagall was there and so were the other House Heads. They were there too set a good example for the students on the first day. Something that Dumbledore didn't seem to care about as his seat was wide open.

He was probably out and about doing something important, likely organizing something for the big Tournament coming to Hogwarts. But the Headmaster's absence was notable, more so with an unfamiliar face down the Table. A very noteworthy face. 

The man's face was gnarled by a network of scars, overlapping and exaggerating the man's scowl as he sipped at his flask. His eyes were his most drawing feature, they were mismatched both in size and color. The smaller eye, from what Harry could see from his seat, was normal enough but the larger eye was another matter. It was about the size of a galleon and electric blue, it seemed to twitch in its socket as it glanced around the room in a random pattern.

"Who's that?" Harry asked, pointing out the scarred man sitting next to Trelawney. The man's large eye swiveling in its socket to stare at Harry just as his finger was raised, "Creepy."

“Hmm, oh. That must be professor Moody," Hermione said. "He's our new Defense Against The Dark Arts Professor. Don't you remember everyone talking about him last night?"

"They talked about something other than the Tournament?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Honestly."

"What? I was tired," Harry defended. "Still am."

"Well, you better wake up soon. Classes are starting and you don't want to be caught sleeping on your first day back."

"Yes, mum." He said, earning himself a smack to the arm.

Despite his interest in the new Professor, they wouldn't have him until the middle of the week. In the meantime, they had Herbology and Care of Magical Beasts. The latter, unfortunately, was a class they shared with Slytherin. Harry groaned with Ron at their misfortune with Hermione wincing along with them.

Harry tried to keep his mind positive as they walked down the hill to their next class, at least he would get to see Hagrid. Harry hadn't seen the hairy man since the end of the last term, outside of a few letters and cakes, and he missed him. He didn't even get to see him at the Welcoming Feast because of the bug he caught. It would be good to see him again.

"Hey, Potter!" A voice yelled from behind them, killing Harry's smile even before he turned around. He didn't want to, he didn't want to acknowledge the other teen's presence. But the pounce would just get all the more persistent if he was ignored. 

So, he glanced over his shoulder and sure enough, there was Draco Malfoy. Strutting across the grass, smirking as he approached. He looked as slimy as he did the year before. His blonde hair slicked back and clothes made of a finer material than most of the other students. Both of which would have been fine. They might have even looked endearing on another student, any other student, but the way he looked down his nose at everyone always rankled at Harry.

"There you are." The blonde said, stopping a few paces above the Gryffindors with his tag-alongs Crabe and Goyle standing on either side of him. 

Harry interrupted him before he could say anything else, "And there you are. What do you want Malfoy?"

"What? I can't check on a fellow student?" He mocked, recovering quickly. "I heard you were in the infirmary again, memories from last year that fresh? Still afraid to get on the train?"

"How about you back off, Malfoy," Ron growled, stepping in front of his friend and glaring down at the blonde. Almost on cue, Malfoy's two lackeys moved forward, each nose to nose with Ron. The redhead might have been tall, and getting taller, but he was still all knees and elbows while Crabe and Goyle were masses. Harry couldn't tell you masses of what exactly but they were massive. That didn't stop Ron from puffing his chest and glaring back at each one, "No one asked you to butt in."

"And what are you going to do about it, Weasley? Puke slugs at me?"

"New wand new year, Malfoy," Ron said, hand reaching for his pocket "You want to try it again?"

Hermione grabbed his wrist before he could launch a spell, "Ron, stop it. He's not worth it."

Malfoy snorted at the pair, "And here I was just voicing my concern. I suppose I can't expect much from a blood traitor."

Harry grabbed Ron by his other arm, pulling him back before he did something he wouldn't regret until the detention hit. "How about you shove off Malfoy?" He said, glaring up at the blonde as he pulled his friend towards their next class. "It's bad enough we have to deal with you during class, so how about you leave us alone between them. That'd be great, thanks."

Malfoy sputtered for a moment, his face starting to go a bit red even as Harry turned away. Ron glared back but Harry steadfastly ignored him, even as he yelled after them. "Don't you walk away from me Potter!"

Harry kept on walking, muscles easing even as he heard the rushed footsteps behind him. He started to walk on the balls of his feet, his strides a bit wider, and something deep in his chest started to bubble. He wasn't aware of any of this, not at first, but even so, he felt ready. For what, he was only vaguely aware of. Malfoy was a coward, an angry one. He’d attack and Harry would act.

How? He didn’t know but it wouldn’t end well for Malfoy.

"Malfoy!" A voice yelled from further up the hill, so firm and authoritative that heads snapped to look at the speaker. She was a Slytherin, her robes as fine as Malfoy's but where the boy fluttered with the cloth she glided. Her blonde head held high as her blue eyes marked her Housemate with an icy look, not even a glare but the disapproval was there. 

Harry recognized her, somewhat. Greengrass, he thinks. He couldn't remember her first name. It had never seemed important before, she had just been another face in a crowd of green. Another snake, another bully, another lackey of Malfoy. But she was standing up to Malfoy and he seemed... cowed?

"What do you want, Greengrass?" So Harry was right.

The girl kept up her icy look as she descended, a few other Slytherin girls trailing behind her. "I want you to not to hurt our chances at the House Cup, again. The upper years already blame us enough for losing the last three years and I would rather not prove them right."

Malfoy's face was red, spreading to his ears, but he still kept his head just as high as the girls. "I don't have anything to prove."

"Then walk away. Or do I need my father to send a letter to yours?" There was some weight there, some context Harry was missing. Whatever it was it scared Malfoy off as he shoved his wand away, swirling his cloak as he stomped his way down to Hagrid's hut. There were some stifled giggles behind Greengrass as the girls watched Malfoy retreat. Greengrass herself seemed satisfied, though she didn't laugh.

"Uh, thanks?" Harry said as she started to pass, causing her to pause and weigh him with those icy eyes. She didn't say anything, she studied him for a moment before inclining her head and continuing. 

"What was that about?" Hermione asked once the Slytherins left.

"Nothing good," Ron muttered. "I think I heard mum say something about the Malfoys and Greengrasses coming to some sort of agreement the other day."

"An agreement about what exactly?"

Ron shrugged, "I dunno, the World Cup was about to start."

Hermione didn't even bother to roll her eyes, instead, shaking her head, she led them down the hill.

Hagrid's Hut was at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the gigantic trees kept the wooden cabin in a constant state of shade. How Hagrid grew anything in that little garden of his was beyond Harry and yet the man's gourds grew strong.

The man himself was standing outside his front door, a wide smile ripping through his thick beard as he waved at them. Hagrid was a giant of a man in a very literal sense, he said it was on his father's side and it showed. As tall and as thick as a tree he towered over everyone as he directed them around the front of his home and a series of open wooden crates. Harry couldn't be happier to see him.

"There yeh are!" Hagrid greeted, clapping Harry on the shoulder as he approached. "I was worried abou' yeh when yeh didn't show up at the feast."

"Got a bit sick on the train is all," Harry said, trading smiles with the man and brushing off his concern. "It's great to see you."

"Yeh to Harry, yeh to." He said, nearly knocking Harry over as he gave the teen's shoulder another good pat. "Now, come on. Yeh're going to love this! I've got somethin' special for this year's class. Yeh should be the last ones so we can get started!"

"Exactly what are we learning this year Hagrid?" Hermione asked, as cautious as she was curious. Hagrid was a good person, one of the best Harry knew, but his definition of cuddly didn't quite match up with everyone else's. 

"Glad you asked Hermione!" He said, smile ever wide as he motioned his class closer to the wooden crates. "What we have here are some Blast End Skrewts! Jus' hatched too."

Lavender, a girl from Gryffindor, made a gagging sound as she peeked inside the crates. Most everyone followed her example.

Harry couldn't blame them, he could smell the things before he saw them. The scent of raw and rotten fish suited the large maggot like creatures well. They were pale white, slimy, and Harry's only clue which end was which were the sparks that propelled them along. Hundreds bumped and crawled over each other inside each crate, blindly lashing out with their odd angles legs as they tried to stay on top.

"What are those?" someone asked between retches. Harry hoped it was the Slytherins.

"Blast End Skrewts, pretty sure I said that." Hagrid said sounding genuinely confused, "Thought we could make a project of em, raising em and seeing what they eat."

Again Harry heard someone ask something, "You don't know?", and hoped it was the Slytherins. He half suspected Malfoy but one glance at the bored looking boy showed he couldn't be bothered with the class much less make snide comments. Greengrass sitting near him might have had something to do with that. Hagrid didn't seem to mind the question, or even notice it, as he happily pointed out the bits of food he -thought- might work. 

The whole thing honestly made Harry wish he was back in Herbology class, squeezing the puss out of plants to cure zits. At least then he knew he was doing something disgusting for a reason. Instead, he was wrist deep in frog livers and snake tails trying to feed mouthless beasties that rewarded his efforts by trying to set his hand on fire. Others weren't so lucky.

Dean Thomas was muttering a healing charm to ease his burned hand the whole way back to the castle.

After lunch, when the great bell rang, Hermione separated from the group. Heading towards a class of "actual meaningful information". Meanwhile, Harry and Ron walked up the staircase towards Divination and an easy O.

Hermione didn't understand that, an easy grade. If a class didn't inform her or challenge her then it was meaningless. She didn't think a class should be easy. Which was why she, quiet smartly, dropped the class.

Harry knew he probably should have too, but for a completely different reason than his friend. As Professor Trelawney proved not a minute into the class. 

The room had been just as Harry remembered it the year before, the smell of sweet perfume choking him as he entered. The room was dimly lit, the windows shielded tight with drapes and each table lite by a shawled lamp. It made it difficult to see, jarring even after coming in from the bright afternoon sky in the Great Hall. It was also enough darkness for the Professor to make an entrance. 

"Good afternoon," She greeted in her misty voice, behind Harry's chair. He'd admit it, he jumped. He had chosen one of the back tables, little circular things that barely had room for his books and the lamp, to avoid her attention. That didn't work, it had just put him in her line of fire.

"You seem distracted, my dear." She said, her eyes blinking owlishly behind her thick glasses. They were wet and glossy as she loomed over him, as if she was looking at some great tragedy. "My inner eye can see it, past that brave face of yours to the troubled soul that lurks beneath. And, I regret to say, that your fears are not unfounded. I fear the thing you dread will indeed come to pass, perhaps sooner then you'd think."

Ron made a face behind her back. Only schooling his face back as she swept past him, her beads clacking as she moved to the front of the class. 

Harry scowled after her. What did she know? 'What he feared would come to pass'? How would she know? 

As far as Harry could tell Trelawney's fortune telling was about as real as those commercials on the Telly. Hermione was right, she was a fraud. It wouldn't be long before the woman started to 'predict' his death again.

And yet, his dreams. The visions of Wormtail, the strange man on the train, the blonde girl who haunted his mind.

Dumbledore seemed to trust her, believing the words she said in a trance to be true. Her words, gasped from the back of her throat as her glazed eyes pinned him, screamed the Voldemort would return. Did all the things he was seeing have to deal with that?

No.

He refused to believe that the blonde girl had anything to do with the Dark Wizard. She was too... pure. Pure and strong. A steady light. He couldn't bring himself to even think of the two of them in the same room, much less on that field of blue. Just trying to think of it...

Harry started flipping through his textbook, distracting himself, ignoring Trelawney as she rambled. 

He was mostly looking at the pictures, watching them loop through scenes of drifting stars and swirling flames. There were thousands of ways to divine the future, or so the book claimed. Tea leaves, chicken bones, sacred fires. The list went on, chapter by chapter describing the various methods. Though Harry could have done without the picture of cow entrails. 

The pages spill from his fingers, random images and titles flickering before his eyes absently. Then something caught his, forcing him to flip a chapter or two back to find it again. 

Dream Reading. The book claimed that by looking at the symbols hidden within a dream one could find hints to their personal future, clarifying their present.

Could he use this? It couldn’t hurt, could it?

He could certainly use a little clarity, so he started to thumb through the chapter. There wasn’t much, not enough for him at least. There were teases of information here and there, graphs of common symbols and list of what certain colors could mean, but it wasn’t enough. He’d have to go to the library and find a more dedicated book if he truly wanted to interpret his dreams.

“Harry,” Ron whispered, elbowing him to get his friend’s attention, “Harry!”

“What?” Harry asked, looking up and found the whole class staring at him. Including Trelawney. He had to let out a little groan.

How’d she predict he’d die this time?


End file.
